


We Dance to the Beating of Your Broken Heart

by ViceCaptain



Series: Kings of Wrecks [2]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: But it also gets porny, It might also be just an excuse, M/M, My life is fucked, So I wasn't through with feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:40:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23650213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViceCaptain/pseuds/ViceCaptain
Summary: Suddenly, John Silver is very awake, sitting up to see James Flint sleeping peacefully inhisbed.
Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver
Series: Kings of Wrecks [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1702672
Comments: 2
Kudos: 50





	We Dance to the Beating of Your Broken Heart

**Author's Note:**

> As I was saying... I'm ruined by these damn bastards, I felt like I still had some feels to get out and dump on the page. Also, I amused myself with a thorough study and observation of James Flint's booty so here we are. As much as I'd like to pretend this next snippet was born from deep feelings and deductions only, I can't deny I also really needed to write the good ol' switch.  
> Title and loose inspiration taken from "All the Kings" by Editors (frankly, another SilverFlint song I feel like recommending to y'all). Basically I suck at coming up with titles.  
> And that's it. Fuck my life entirely.

The morning sneaks in quietly, bringing in gentle rays of sunlight through the window, the sound of placid waves is barely reaching his ears. It’s annoying, honestly, and it makes him stir on the bed… everything is incredibly warm and he gradually realizes that his head is resting on a softly heaving chest. Suddenly, John Silver is very awake, sitting up to see James Flint sleeping peacefully in _his_ bed.

Memories of the previous night flood his mind: the storm, the apparition of Flint, his destructive words, the emotions, unstoppable, that wrecked him, the realization and how they clung to one another while the storm broke outside… Of course, he remembers very well how the other fucked him to an inch of his life all night long too.

As if on cue, delightful pangs of the right kind of ache course through him as a pleased smile grazes his lips and he wonders how long had it been since the last time he did such a thing, since he allowed himself to feel something that wasn’t loathing or apathy, since he wore a genuine emotion on his face…

Either way, there’s such an otherworldly feeling to the whole situation, that John’s not fully convinced he didn’t just have a feverish dream and he’s maybe currently raving in a delirious state while waiting to die on the side of a road, that being the vision that gently tips him over to the other side. Even the weather feels dreamlike and if that’s actually what is happening, even the sound of crashing waves can turn into something extremely soothing and peaceful. He still despises the wretched expanse of water, obviously, but James Flint seems to be the very embodiment of the ocean, so it is bound to grow on him, eventually. It already did when they sailed together, did it not?

Speaking of which, _Flint is sleeping in his fucking bed_ , right now. The lines on his face have somehow relaxed, for the first time, he actually looks at peace. He never saw James fully relaxed or content, in those years in which they spent every day side by side on the Walrus, even while he slept he never fully let go of the pain, the grief, the anger that dug and carved heavy lines on his face. It was as if he couldn’t catch even the slightest moment of quiet, as if the violent turmoil tearing at him from inside his chest kept cutting and swallowing, even in his sleep, even if he was unconscious. Maybe because it never, in fact, relented.

It is an earthshaking realization to see his handsome face soften like that because of _him_. Silver can’t help the fascination as he watches those long fair lashes rest against his freckly cheeks, the pale forehead smooth, no frown creasing its plains, pink thin lips slightly parted. His fingers gently graze his eyebrows, run along the high cheekbones, trace the soft wrinkles around his eyes. Even while Flint’s like that, there’s something sharp that won’t leave his features, a hint of danger and sadness that probably won’t fade no matter what, as if pain sipped through his skin, all the way down to his bones.

While he studies the sleeping man next to him, he’s simply amazed by his beauty. Of course, he always thought the other is nothing short of gorgeous, he has an air of nobility to him, beautiful but deadly, Silver secretly thought if there ever had to be a pirate king that should have been James Flint, always believed and probably he still does, wearing a crown with the same gravity and spontaneity he wears his scars.

Silver has no idea what time it is, but it surely isn’t early and seeing the other so deeply asleep makes him think that he probably hasn’t slept decently in quite a long time. He doesn’t mind, though, taking his sweet time to indulge in the rare sight.

To be completely honest, Silver is terrified of this, whatever _this_ is. Because he knows that the next time they will find one another on opposite sides, it will be the death of them quite probably… they don’t have anything else to demolish, they are emptied, trembling skeletons haunted by miserable ghosts. One more breath of wind and they will crumble to dust.

Indeed, it makes him tremble just considering it, that they might have reached the point where the only thing that still keeps them standing are the memories of themselves that they see in each other. Also, one can’t just pretend they didn’t tear one another to pieces to get where they are now: many of those creases on both their faces were caused by themselves. And the extents to which they could get for the other in case something was to happen to them…

He shakes his head, pushing to the side whatever ominous vision his brain is providing. The hand that was caressing Flint’s face has moved to his hair without him realizing, he’s honest to God petting James Flint, his ginger hair looks even brighter than he remembered and it makes him smile, how is that color even real? The best thing about it is that he shifts a bit in the sleep as if he’s feeling the touch. Who would have thought that someday he would have tamed the beast that is Flint?

Petting a sleeping lion must feel awfully similar, he muses. For some unexplained reason, the fact makes his smile widen.

“Do you have a habit of groping people in their sleep?” comes the gruff question and Silver chuckles in reply as he watches Flint stir and look up at him through hooded eyes “This is actually special. Besides I wouldn’t call it ‘groping’.” he protests before bending to kiss the other’s lips. Then the silence settles between them while they just look in each other’s eyes, countless questions and thoughts that go unvoiced flood their minds, they can almost be seen in the colors of their irises and they have always been able to read those like ink on paper.

They quietly shift to sit next to one another, backs to the headboard, legs tangled in the wrecked sheets and shoulders pressed together. Now that they are in the daylight, Silver can see that Flint has some scratches and injuries that look fresh, he mindlessly reaches for them then hesitates, expecting the other to slap his hand away, but he allows his touch, all the while looking up at his eyes.

“Is it from your escape?” he asks, those aren’t serious wounds, but he utters the words in a shaky whisper, as if Flint had lost a limb in the act. Because what he left behind in that plantation is even worse than that and they would have to face it eventually. John Silver would have to live with the knowledge that his actions forced Flint to face and lose Thomas a second time. That pain is all his making and to just bask in the warmth they are providing to one another isn’t fair. Even if it could kill him, he has to face it.

Flint blinks slowly and nods, resigned, probably trying to deal with the graveness of it himself. His shoulders slump almost imperceptibly but Silver notices, there’s probably nothing that could escape each other’s sights at that point. And it hurts like he just stabbed him, he expected a sudden surge of anger, he expected second thoughts and accusations, he actually hoped for it, because that is far worse… it’s the silent elegy for a part of James that won’t ever return. It’s a funereal speech to the memory of James McGraw.

“Did it take you all these years to escape?” he asks almost shyly, needing to at least try to pull Flint away from that, from the silent wail of pain that he’s probably only now allowing himself.  
The other’s lips curl softly into a little grin “Please” he says “It took me a week. And only because I tried to kill the smallest number of men” Thomas’ request, no doubt. Silver huffs a little laugh, he shouldn’t have doubted.

The question seemed implicit then… What about those five years? Flint sighs and leans his head back against the wood of the bed frame, eyes fluttering close “I spent that time trying to put myself back together. To an acceptable level, at least” he replies, voice low, as if speaking too loudly could shatter his very bones and ligaments. His eyes open again and he turns them to Silver’s “I lost Thomas a second time”.

Those words hang in the air between them while they extend icy claws beneath John’s skin, stabbing that fragile and scared part of him, the one that mumbles traitorous doubts to his mind and heart… ‘You’re just the only thing left for him. The only thing he can settle with now. Not even a real substitute, just a crutch to not stumble and fall, waiting to slowly die’ he swallows heavily, he can really be a shit… Especially to himself.

Whatever his own little episode could be, he can’t let it surface. Flint is tearing himself open, pouring himself out and he owes him at least that before his internal voice can reach him with its malice. He doesn’t say anything, but gives him a little nod. Flint drops his gaze to his own hands, resting on his thighs “But, worse than that… I literally inflicted him the worst pain imaginable” he flexes his fingers and relaxes them again “I unraveled beneath his eyes, owed him the tale of my deeds. And the names of all the ghosts I drag along. It all spilled from my lips and every word was like the slow plunge of a blade in his chest, but there was no stopping it… in a way, it was my confession. Well, at least the second confession I ever allowed myself.” Clearly, Flint had all the intentions of only giving the one he offered Silver when he told him what man he really had been.

He huffs softly now, accepting the realization, before he continues “I told him about Miranda’s fate. About all the blood and fire I waged on everyone that stood in my way, was it friend or foe. I admitted I turned all the love I ever felt into hatred and searing rage.” Since the first moment they met, Silver had been terribly afraid of what Flint was capable to do, since he saw him beat one of his own men to a bloody pulp, fuelled only by sheer determination and covered in blood like a rabid hound, he thought that was a man that had been through hell and that could just as easily bring the same hell to others.

“There stood the man who killed James McGraw. There stood the man who killed his truest love” he adds and his voice is strained as if he’s on the verge of tears “Everything else, he could have accepted or at least understood. But that… It was unforgivable. And he loved that man more than his own life… I took it away from him.”

Even Silver gasps at those words, pure-hearted souls don’t accept compromises, they would never lower themselves to the ways of liars and crooked men, would never gain control on their beloved, sneak around in their mind to undo them. They would face the pain and the grief and never accept that anyone could take their beloved away. To hurt such pure-hearted souls is one of the worst sins.

Flint closes his eyes again, a single tear drops from his eye while he silently bites his lower lip, willing his own despair back in the dark recesses of himself. And when he looks at him again, his green eyes cut right through Silver’s soul, his guard lowered for him to reach inside and pull whatever thread composes his spirit. He knows what he finds there, buried deep but never deep enough to escape Flint.

“Don’t” he growls softly “You are not the last resort of a desperate man. I thought I couldn’t survive my last unforgivable action. But I did, only because I knew _this_ man and his existence are devoted to you. I devoted them to you.” He cups his face and forces their eyes to meet “I’m not here to curse you with my presence. If I am only a mere reminder to your mistakes, then… I’d rather you end James Flint too. Definitively, this time.”

The mere implication is enough to make John shiver and cling to him, as if Flint could melt in the daylight if he lets go now “Never. I would never… that’s not what I want.”  
“What do you want, John?” the other asks then, foreheads touching and lips grazing while they speak.  
“I want us… I want to live again. With you.” One of his hands finds its way to Flint’s heart, pressing softly on his chest “I want back everything we lost and threw away.” As he says so, he’s pushing James against the bed frame, gently taking his space and claiming his lips.

Flint allows him, quietly welcomes him between his arms, his hands burrow in his black wild curls, pulling him along while he deepens their kiss and sighs in it, with a softness and an abandon he never showed the previous night. Silver lets himself be dragged in it, like surrendering to a gentle tidal wave. Then a skilled and daring hand reaches for his member beneath the sheets and he gasps in surprise, pulling back to take a look at Flint.

He’s flushed and the heartbreaking resignation is gone, replaced by a tempting little smirk. His hand gives him a firm pull, forcing a moan from John’s lips, all the while he never takes his eyes off him. The invitation is obvious enough and Silver wouldn’t have stepped back even if the house caught on fire, that playful and seductive expression on his face could have tempted the angels from the Heavens, honestly. Of course, James Flint being himself, sweetens the request as he suggestively spreads his legs.

Silver can’t help his eyes racing down to watch his strong and ridiculously alluring thighs, the white cloth of the sheets stretched around them. Before he even realizes, he’s fitting himself between them, tearing the linens away and pressing their bodies together with a pleased groan. Just that is enough to make him dizzy, but Flint’s wanton kisses can only make it worse, what with the way he clings to him and presses his lips to his neck and jaw, beard leaving a tingling sensation on his skin.

“Y-you know what you’re doing” he blurts out and wants to slap himself as soon as the words are out. Flint chuckles “Why, yes, John. I have my fair amount of experience” he replies, genuinely amused and Silver decides that’s a look he wishes to see on the other forever, it lights up his features and his gaze “although, to be completely honest” he continues while sneaking a hand between them to teasingly stroke their cocks together “It’s been a long time since I offered myself like this… The last time was with Thomas” he admits, blushing softly and it really makes sense, considering how he wouldn’t give up control to anyone…

That’s another realization right there, another huge admission in a simple string of words, in the smallest twitch of his lips, in the quietest of his gazes, as he always does and anyone else could dismiss it all, looking for the grand and dramatic gestures, but those are the tricks Flint uses to distract from the truth. His admissions are whispers in the dark and that simple sentence belongs there.

John Silver realizes that. He maybe is the last person able to do such a thing and the best at it, despite everything. And like anything else James had done or said to him, he’s immediately fascinated, enamored and ready to follow. He leans into him and kisses his lips again, collected despite the need and hunger growing steadily as their bodies quietly ignite. His hand joins the other’s, stroking their members together.

They sigh and moan softly like one body, the pace kept slow and torturous. It is Flint that decides when they let go, guiding his hand lower and it’s quite obvious what he’s supposed to do now. Silver pulls himself out of his stupor and gently explores, letting his fingers, slick with precum, dare to press softly on his entrance, the muscle smoothly gives way with a quiet hiss from Flint.

It’s a tentative and slow prodding until his first digits slowly push in and it’s already enough to spin his head around, encouraging him to push deeper, the hot flesh giving way and tightening around his fingers. He explores carefully, taking his time to study every reaction he’s able to pull from the other, every little moan and twitch. He’s roused and all the while he can’t keep from kissing and licking in his mouth avidly.

Flint’s fingers dig into his scalp while he pants against his lips. “Come on” he pleads, voice husky and low, he bites on Silver’s lower lip, almost painfully. The last strand of his patience is pulled, how is he supposed to not give in to such orders?

John pushes closer, giving one last stroke of his fingers before he pulls them out, he replaces them with his member. He ever so slowly shoves in, inch by inch, pressing him against the wood of the frame, swallowing the trembling moans and pants escaping James. He pulls back to look down at him, soft and disheveled, only when he bottoms out and the overwhelming feeling hits him like a crashing wave. He needs to grab on the headboard with a hand to keep himself upright, his muscles are tense and sweat lazily erupts on his skin as he tries to hold back from mindlessly fucking the other there and then.

Flint moans and his eyes flutter close, indulging in the feeling, his hips give a slow roll, forcing a strained growl from Silver that moves his free hand to pin on the other’s nape, his thumb stroking the jaw and gently forcing him to look up, to open his eyes… and drowning in the disarming longing and surrender he finds in the bright green.

He then starts moving, slow and deep, their heated breaths tangle together while he rests his forehead against the other’s, picking up a pace as Flint moves one of his hands to claw on the bed frame as well, his legs tighten around Silver’s hips as they ride desperately, heat and pleasure burning them inside out.

“Christ, you’re gorgeous” Silver pants in his ear while he thrusts in his tight and hot body, the other can’t even reply, too high on the sensations, he just moans and arches against him, offering his neck and his pale chest.

Honestly, John has behaved enough at that point, in his own modest opinion. He straightens and takes hold of his thighs, fingers carving red trails in his firm flesh while he pins James against the headboard, his hips snap and he fucks in him steadily now, reaching the right spot to make his lover moan helplessly, he needs both his hands to grab on the wooden frame now, as if the unrelenting onslaught of pleasure could wash him away.

Silver can’t tear his eyes away and every sweet sound Flint lets out makes his chest clench on his heart, his hands run to his behind, squeezing. With the next wave of scorching heat that claws at their nerves, James climaxes before his eyes, calling out his name and he fucks him through it, squeezing every moan from his exposed throat. It’s not long before he tips over as well, buried deep inside him, wild hair falling in front of his face while he slumps forward.

They slowly slide down together, panting, ravished and exhilarated, until they lie in a heap of their own limbs, hearts racing and chests heaving. “Fuck” is Silver’s only comment before they both start giggling, which is quite unfitting to grown-ass men like them but it just comes so naturally.

“Yeah. There will be a lot of that” Flint replies with a sated voice and a smile to match. Silver laughs again, snuggling to his neck “And here I thought I had seen every side of you” he mumbles against his skin, his hand once again moves to find his heartbeat beneath the skin of his chest, a broken heart for sure, after everything Flint lived through, but those shatters he decided to give to him.

“I love you” he whispers, so low that Silver could think he imagined the sound, but as everything James does, it shakes his whole being, all the way down to his bones and soul. Their kiss is everything they need as a reply and John allows it to pull them astray, like the tide and the storm.


End file.
